


It's about time

by macgyvershe



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: John has his hands full literally, M/M, Major Character repeatedly dies, Timey Wimey AU but not Doctor Who, Two twits are more confusing than one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-11
Updated: 2016-08-02
Packaged: 2018-05-19 16:24:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5974009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/macgyvershe/pseuds/macgyvershe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Time AU where John 'discovers' Sherlock's secret.  Time takes a turn and it could be the death of them all. Lots of Timey Wimey but no Dr Who.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. From Time to Time

**Author's Note:**

> Because of all the wonderful appreciation and kudos this little fic received, I'm going to make it a longer story. It will be a strange AU and I hope that you enjoy it as much as I enjoy writing it for you. hugs from Star
> 
> Please note that this story has changed. One major character will die repeatedly. Sorry about that. I don't plot plan my stories. I'm reading it just as you are. Sometimes I get surprised by where the story goes. If this is triggery for you please avoid this story.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This started out as a really fluffy piece. I don't sit down and turn out a plot. I sit down and just start writing and reading it just as you do. So I'm as surprised as you are when the story twists and turns. Major character repeatedly dies. If this is triggery for you. Please don't read past the first chapter. Star

Sherlock, bent over the body, examining some minute detail with his pocket magnifier. He looked over his shoulder to make sure he knew where John stood.

John turned to question Greg. John blinked, it was then that it hit him.

“Greg, I think that's about it for us for now. Sherlock and I – we have – to go.”

Greg looked a bit concerned about John's sudden insistence that he and Sherlock leave.

John grabbed Sherlock by his Belstaff and practically shoved him under the police tape. Pushing him towards the main street. Not a word passed Sherlock's lips.

“I'll text you Sherlock's findings ASAP.” John shouted back at Greg.

“Oh my god, oh my god.” John kept muttering to himself in hushed tones.

With no help from Sherlock he captured a passing cab and they were off to Baker street.

There was absolute silence on the ride home. Once there John all but threw money at the cabbie and bundled Sherlock off through the black door and up the stairs. All the while Sherlock was quiet and compliant, so very out of character for him. 

Sherlock strode into the sitting room, removed his coat and scarf, throwing them on the couch. John shut the door, leaning his back onto it and locked it with his right hand.

“What the fuck was that?” John said, his eyes wide, his voice edged with panic.

Sherlock turned slowly and gave John one of his small smiles. Those he reserved only for John.

“That's never happened before.” Sherlock stated, sitting calmly in his chair.

Aggressively, John divested himself of his coat and gloves. Sitting on the edge of his chair facing Sherlock, John glared into his eyes.

“Explain what happened back there? And don't tell me you don't know what I'm talking about.” John finally sat back and dared Sherlock to not answer.

“You look like you could use some tea. I'll make some while I explain.”

Sherlock stood, walked into the kitchen, putting the kettle on.

“It began when I was very young. I thought everyone could do it. It wasn't until I was around other children that I learned it was only me.”

Bringing in a tray with tea pot, cups and John's favorite biscuits. Sherlock found John still appeared a little shocky.

“You can control time.” It wasn't a question. John stared at Sherlock as if he'd suddenly sprouted wings, horns and a pointy tail.

“Quite right, John. You are the only person I've ever known who was aware of my little secret.”

“Sherlock, this isn't a 'little' secret. This is what the shite is going on, freakout crazy.” 

“I'm not sure why you can perceive my ability. We'll have to run a few experimental situations to find out what has changed.”

Sherlock poured hot water for the tea and nudged the biscuits within easy reach of John.

John was trying to wrap his mind around this new aspect of Sherlock's abilities.

“You do this all the time, don't you?

John took in the soothing vapor from his extremely hot tea (Sherlock knew he liked it that way when he was in a contemplating murder mode. This situation was very like that, wasn't it?)

“I am the most observant man on the planet, but slowing time makes it all so very easy.” Sherlock answered.

“And you were going to tell me about this when?” John snagged one of the biscuits and Sherlock could tell he was calming down from the 'I can't believe this shite' stage to the 'shock and awe' level.

“By the way, how did you know what was happening and that I was doing it?” Sherlock snagged a biscuit too and sat back, his full attention on John's next words.

“I watched you examining the body. I turned to say something to Greg and he was moving in slow motion. Then I noticed that everyone was moving in slow motion except you and me. I knew I wasn't doing it. I'm not an idiot.”

“Interesting.” Sherlock ran through several scenarios of what might have changed to suddenly enabled John to 'feel' the change in time.

“Normally, I only affect the immediate area. To my understanding, time recalibrates itself without causing any perceptible negative effects. Its all quite fascinating.” Sherlock looked into the dark midnight blue of John's eyes and saw the unconditional acceptance even though he'd just found out that Sherlock's talents extended way beyond deductions.

The most observant man on the planet. The man who could stop time, saw clearly now. Though he wouldn't eat himself, he always made sure John was fed. He opened doors for John. He composed music for John. Even made tea for John.

John hadn't changed. Sherlock had. Since that first day that they met and he'd brushed off John's early advances. People, men and women, always made advances toward Sherlock. It became his default setting to push them away. It had been a terrible mistake that day. He could see that now. 

He lived for John's smile. John's laughter. When the adrenaline charged though their bodies, it was as if they always and ever had been together; sharing the adventure, thrilling in the excitement, the ever present danger that filled their hearts to capacity. Sherlock's eyes stung and he blinked back the wetness that threatened to travel down his pale, distinctive cheeks.

“John, I know why you can feel me manipulate time.”

“Would you care to elucidate, Mr. Genius Consulting Detective?”

Sherlock came and knelt before John. “You haven't changed. I have. In the middle of slowing time, I stopped to make sure you were close. I focused on you and time.”

“Why would you do that?” John said slowly as he looked into the analytical gaze of Sherlock Holmes. A gaze that turned from warm friendship to simply, sumptuously, captivating adoration.

“Oh.” John realized. “Oh.” He stammered again. Cautiously, Sherlock closed the space between them. Placing a chaste kiss upon John's lips.

John stilled, giving silent permission to continue. Sherlock kissed him again. John felt Sherlock's small smile. It was so much more endearing when he felt it move across his own lips. Sherlock drew John into his arms. The kiss deepening and what had been passion turned to a firestorm of sensation. 

John's heart stopped as everything raced outward from their multiple points of body contact. There was a tsunami of sensation across John's skin that made his body shudder with physical happiness. 

Somewhere between heart beats, between breaths of air, between the beginnings and the never ends; the kiss continued...on.

(-_-)

“Bloody hell,” John breathed out. “What the fuck was that?”

John looked down at the visible dampness of his jeans, evidence of his recent ejaculation. 

“What the flying fuck just happened, Sherlock?”

Sherlock glanced at the clock on the mantle and then looked to find his own bespoke trousers in the same happy state as John's jeans.”

“I believe, my dearest John, that was a two hour kiss that lead to delightful and extended mutual orgasms. Sherlock plopped down on the floor in front of John. “Let us give time a rest before we do that again. I really could use a cigarette.” Sherlock sighed and lay his head on John's thigh.

John rested his hands on Sherlock's shoulders. Leaning back in his chair. Blinking rapidly, his breathing coming back to normal.

“No cigarettes.” John finalized that deal. “I thought this wasn't your area?” He gestured between them, at their sex stained bodies.

“Its never been. Not until now. Not until you, John.”

“I don't know if I should be flattered or terrified. I definitely want to do that again. In the future. Yes, again.”

Sherlock looked into John's eyes. The dark blue shimmered with devotion that had always been there. 

With John the connection was instantaneous. Easy. Almost too easy. Frighteningly easy. Sherlock could remember the electric touch of John's hand as he'd offered his phone to Sherlock at Bart's. Sherlock had tried so hard to impress John, there and then. He'd slowed time to a snails crawl. Looking for long stolen minutes at the mystery that was John Watson. The enigma, the challenge, the killer with healers hands, all rolled up into the man. The only man to ever breach the walls, to tear down the barricades, to bring love into the Mind Palace of Sherlock Holmes.

“John.” Sherlock's rich baritone reverberated in the small sitting room. “I love you.”

John ran the fingers of his left had through Sherlock's riot of dark locks.

“I knew you'd get there.”

Sherlock could hear the smile in John's voice. A voice that could command and cuddle, all at the same time.

“If that was just a kiss – what would real sex be like?” John's brows knit as he cupped Sherlock's chin, lifting it so he could look into those iridescent eyes.

“It might just kill us.” Sherlock's laughter filled the room and lit up John's life.

(-_-)

Of course it didn't kill them, but they were both hospitalized. A very hard one to explain. Time sex was not for the faint of heart. Once a week was all that they could really handle to begin with. Sometimes that was pushing it. Fortunately, they could time snog with impunity. All hail the time kiss. 

It was like a new era. The new couple was inseparable. Of course time suffered greatly as Sherlock was constantly recalibrating it. At crime scenes, John had to make sure he wasn't too close to Sherlock. As the consulting time thief was prone to chasing John around for a hug and a cuddle, before, during and after a crime scene investigation. 

Sherlock had turned into a time monster. A monster who couldn't get enough of John Watson.


	2. Great Scott

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things goes pear shaped at a crime scene. Then the world turns arse over tea cup when time gets crossed.

Now things could have gone on as before. The forever friends turned time lovers meandering down the road of life, one step at a time. But we all know life isn't ever what we expect it to be.

Several months after the initial reveal. John was watching Sherlock inspect the entails of slaughtered animal that lay next to a murder victim. Sherlock slowed time imperceptibly, John smiled and stepped closer. Then something totally unexpected and terrifying happened. Sherlock looked at John and lost consciousness. John was quick to grab him up before he could fall into the dead animals remains. 

“Sherlock?” John gently lay the brunette down, cradling his head. Looking for any outward signs of injury.

“Yes.” A rich baritone answered from behind him. 

John turned to find another Sherlock crouching behind him.

“What in the name of… Sherlock what the hell did you do?”

“Apparently, something I've never thought possible. I've intersected two time lines at once. Interesting.”

“Oh, for gods sake. Can you finish up here? I've got to get my Sherlock back to Baker Street.”

“Why is He your Sherlock? Aren't we both?”

“We will sort this out at home. Do your thing here with Lestrade and get back to Baker Street as soon as possible.” John pulled Sherlock up by his arms into a fireman's carry over his good shoulder. His strong back hefting the long, lanky body and scurrying away from the crime scene at top speed. 

(-_-)

The cab ride was quick. One of Sherlock's many cabbie cronies was able to use the shortest and least visible routes back at Baker Street. Sherlock was regaining consciousness by the time they got to the door. John helped him up the stairs, into the flat. Removing his Belstaff before settling him onto the couch.

Sherlock was blinking. Ruffling his hands through his riotous curls. 

“Ah, John. I was leaning over the butchered animal carcass, looked up at you and thought I saw myself behind you, then everything went black. It was a very odd moment. Odd indeed.”

They heard the front door open and close. Then elegantly bespoke shoes took the stairs two at a time. The door opened, Sherlock, nary a curl out of place stepped into the sitting room.

“Sherlock Holmes, meet your odd moment.” John could hardly believe his eyes. They were exact in every way. They smelled the same. Would they taste the same? Don't go there Watson he thought to himself. Just don't go there at all.

“Okay, before things get any weirder. I'm calling you Scott.” He pointed at alternate Sherlock. “I want you to go put on the dove gray shirt, so I can at least tell you two apart.”

Scott huffed but complied to John's wishes. Coming back into the sitting room, he sat imperiously in his leather chair as Sherlock and John settled into their new reality on the couch.

“What the hell happened out there, Sherlock?” Demanded John.

“I would venture to say.” Both Scott and Sherlock spoke at the same time. Same words.

Sherlock held a finger up to Scott and continued. “I can only state that without more data, I can only conjecture as to the cause and effect that transpired.” 

“I concur.” Scott said softly.

“For heaven's sake, I'm pouring us some brandy.” John stood to get at the good stuff that a wealthy client had given them.

“Just tea for me.” The two Sherlock's said in unison.

“Okay, that has got to stop. I have a hard enough time with one Sherlock. Stereo is just not on.” John smiled and then giggled a bit, then laughed out loud as he went into the kitchen to make some tea.

When he came back into the room the two Sherlock's were conferring in earnest about something.

“This does not bode well. Two of you ganging up on me.” He set the tea tray down and poured the two Sherlock's their favorite blend, while he took his plain.

“We were talking about possible scenarios for the time glitch.” Scott mentioned as he took the tea cup and saucer from John. John added a biscuit to the saucer.

“Does he always take care of you like that?” Scott queried.

“Yes, he is the epitome of the service of care giver. Good hydration and adequate food consumption are his mantras.” Sherlock remarked as he sipped his perfect tea.

“Sadly, there is no John Watson in my world.” Scott commented as he sniffed the biscuit, did not find it wanting and nibbled at it.

Both John and Sherlock stopped mid sip of their teas and stared at Scott.

“Sorry to hear that.” John was genuinely saddened.

It was then that John really looked at Scott. He and Sherlock were identical. But there was something different. Something out of place.

“How long have you lived at Baker Street?” Sherlock asked of his doppelganger.

“When Mrs. Hudson passed, she left me Baker street in her will. I had cared for Mycroft during the last days of his terminal illness. When my John died, I moved here permanently...”

He didn't get to finish as John made a startled sound in his throat. What John and now Sherlock saw in Scott was a life bereft of many of the companions and family that Sherlock now had in his life.

“It might be that I have instigated this time displacement.” Scott took another bite of his biscuit and sipped his most excellent tea. “I've always wondered if my life could have been different. Not so full of loss.”

John knew then what the difference in the two Sherlock's was. Though they were both identical in manner and body language. Scott is slightly more saturnine. His face, though youthful was more care worn than Sherlock's.

“Your life is more, for the lack of a more relevant word, more comfortable. You and John are lovers. My John died before we could consummate a relationship.” Scott sat his cup down and kept his eyes fixed on John.

Sherlock stood. Pacing on the well worn carpet of the sitting room. “We have to get you back to your time period, Scott. You think you caused the glitch in time? What did you do? I'm not sure what the consequences of having two of us in the same time stream will be.”

“There are theories of alternate universes in my time.” Scott posited.

“Here too.” John interjected.

I did a few experiments with not just slowing time, but stepping through it.” Scott gave Sherlock a sheepish look. Knowing what was to come.

“Idiot!” Sherlock ranted. “You have no idea what disrupting time will do to both time lines. You could have irrevocably endanger both universes.”

“I know it was wrong. My curiosity got the better of me.” Scott spoke defensively.

“You were looking in on this time line, weren't you? You saw John and wanted to be with him.” Sherlock lunged at Scott and only John's quick movement kept the two separated.

“Do you even know if touching each other here is okay? What if you rupture time? Aren't there rules about time travel? Will you both settle down. We need to think this through.” John pushed them further apart.

“You are a very calming influence, John.” Scott looked appreciatively at John. Lovingly. 

Sherlock looked ready to shoot Scott. 

“John, may I have a moment alone?” Sherlock indicated his bedroom.

John nodded and followed Sherlock.

“Did you ever look in on other time lines, Sherlock?” John asked immediately.

“When I was younger I dabbled, but it required so much mental energy. I was exhausted for weeks afterward. Not worth the tiny glimpses that I got. I've not done it since. John, he can't stay here. I'm not sure if we can coexist without endangering all possible time lines.”

“Where do we take him? He's you. He'll work things out and do what he wants without consulting us.” John leaned his forehead against Sherlock's.

“I don't trust him. He is me. He won't be caged. He'll make a run for it.” With those words Sherlock grabbed John and headed back into the sitting room.

Scott was gone.

“Shite!” John breathed. “Where would you go in his position, Sherlock?” 

“Mrs. Hudson!” Sherlock snapped and headed for the stairs with John right behind.

Mrs. Hudson's door was ajar. Sherlock bolted in to find her sitting at her kitchen table. Her head leaning on her up turned hand. A happy/sad smile upon her face. 

“Oh Sherlock, love. You're back. John he said some of the nicest things to me. Hugged me and...” Mrs. Hudson dissolved into happy tears. “Sherlock, I thought you had a grey shirt on?” She appraised Sherlock's aubergine colored shirt.

“Mrs. Hudson, what else did Sherlock say to you?” John asked.

Mrs. Hudson looked from John to Sherlock and back. “What is going on here? Are you two playing some strange game?”

(-_-)

Scott stood outside the Diogenes Club. He took a deep breath and entered into the sanctum sanctorum of the British Government. Escorting himself into the Stranger's room to await his 'brother'.

Mycroft entered to find Sherlock agitated and extremely tense. 

“What bothers you, brother mine?” 

Scott stepped forward and hugged Mycroft with every ounce of strength he was capable.

Mycroft was completely dumbfounded. Placing his arms around Sherlock, he tentatively hugged his estranged brother back.

Scott was trembling. “Mycroft, brother mine. It is so very good to see you again.”

“We were at the same crime scene mere hours ago, Sherlock.” Mycroft gently pushes Scott away. Looking at him carefully. “Are you using again, Sherlock?” Mycroft's face is filled with remorse and concern.

Scott gives a half hearted smile. “I'm totally clean.” He says and the tremor in his rich baritone voice is proof enough for Mycroft. 

“Sit. I'll ring for some tea. I want you to tell me what has happened. You know I will do everything in my power to attend to your needs.


	3. The Scott Holmes Agenda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What does Scott want and what is he willing to do to get it?

John rushes into the 'Strangers Room', knowing that he is already too late. Wondering how this is all going to play out? If Mycroft is going to stick his conservative nose into the mix? Is Scott going to muck everything up? How is Sherlock supposed to fix this?

Scott and Mycroft were sitting quietly, absorbing tea and biscuits. Admirable.

“John, do come in. Where is Sherlock? Scott and I were having a rather interesting discussion.”

“I am here, Brother mine.” Sherlock intones from behind Mycroft and Scott. “Scott has revealed his history to you and you are deciding what our future paths will be. Care to share your devious plans with us?” 

Sherlock pulls several more chairs into the circle. He and John sit down.

“We are presented with an opportunity of unparalleled probabilities.” Mycroft begins.

“No, we are presented with a doomsday scenario at best.” Sherlock counters. “Scott must be returned to his time line immediately. Full stop. There are no opportunities here.”

Mycroft pours two more cups of tea for John and Sherlock.

“Might we discuss this matter as civilized men, rather than emotional creatures of chaotic convoluted thoughts?” Mycroft placidly hands out tea cups to the newcomers.

“We don't even know if damage has already been done by Scott being here?” John takes the offered tea and looks at Sherlock hoping for answers in his beautiful ice blue/grey eyes. He notices that Scott is still looking at him with unbridled love. It is terribly unnerving.

Scott stands. Setting his tea down he begins pacing around the Strangers room, at the outer perimeter of the assembled chairs. “I came here with only one agenda. I want to take John Watson back to my universe.”

Sherlock stands slowly and glares at Scott. “That is never going to happen! John belongs here and here he stays.”

“Sherlock, listen to what Scott has to say before we enter into communicative combat.” Mycroft sits forward, his voice turns from polite to command tone.

“There is no discussion to be had. Come John, we have work at the Yard. I advise you, brother mine to rid yourself of your new found additional brother as soon as is possible. I will undertake to remove him from this world at my earliest convenience.” 

Sherlock moved to the rear exit. Not looking back, knowing that John follows him.

Mycroft turns to speak to Scott but he is nowhere to be seen. Immediately he presses a button to call Wilder to the Stranger's room. As Wilder stands upon the threshold, Mycroft asks, “Has Sherlock exited via the front entrance, Wilder?”

“No Sir, I thought he was still here with you. Shall I check all the video feeds around the building for you?” Wilder suggests.

Mycroft lifts his tablet from the desk. “Yes, please do and transfer all video's to my tablet.”

“Of course, Sir.” Wilder turns to fulfill Mycroft's request.

(-_-)

“Sherlock. Stop Sherlock.” John grabs the brunette by his Belstaff and spins him round. “Listen to me. I know you are ticked off. We need to get a grip on the situation and running away isn't the answer.”

“John, I'm not running away. I am concerned about the two of us being too close to each other. That and I want to contact an expert on alternate universes.”

“Is there such a person? Of course there is. Lead on.”

(-_-)

Scott was not seen by any of the external cameras leaving the Diogenes Club. Mycroft immediately contacts Sherlock by text to notify him that Scott may be able to move his transport without being tracked. He also has motion sensors placed all around the building and increases the number of security personnel on duty at all times.

Suddenly, he isn't so open to opportunities and tries to figure out a way to put Sherlock under surveillance without letting the world know there are now two of them.

(-_-)

“So what does the British Government want now?” John says as he looks over his steaming cuppa at Sherlock. 

“He wants you to stay with me at all times. As he is having his minions look for a Sherlock imposter that has no accompanying John Watson.” Sherlock shakes his head as he puts his mobile down.

“I guess Scott shook Mycroft up.” John says as he bites into his Mrs. Hudson baked scone. “I know he's got my attention.”

“John, I wish you'd reconsider my desire for you to leave London until we can get Scott back to his time line?”

“You heard it straight from His Lordship. I need to stick to you like Velcro. Otherwise his minions will be locking you up and throwing away the key.” John smiles.

“John, I'm concerned that Scott will attempt to kidnap you. His abilities in time manipulation are much more advanced than mine. I'm working on improving but I fear for your safety.”

“Sherlock, I don't think Scott will hurt me. Quite frankly I'd rather be here with you. Remember we've done the whole you working alone thing before and it left a bad taste in both our mouths.”

Sherlock has to concur, but he doesn't feel good about it.

(-_-)

Scott kept his distance. Watching Sherlock and John Watson. Looking for patterns, for possible openings. He is patient. Observant. He'd lost his John just as they had started their relationship, it had nearly killed him. This Sherlock was so blasé about his John. So certain of John's devotional love. So careless of a life that should be honored, protected above everything else.

Scott felt Sherlock had so much. He had lost all his connections in his world. Lestrade, as well as Molly are the only persons that kept him going with crimes and criminals to hunt and incarcerate. He'd become an addict to the work, but it was never going to be enough. He needed John. The empty hole in his heart threatened to break him down into bits and pieces that would not allow him to continue.

(-_-)

They were on the hunt for a serial murderer and at the same time Sherlock was working full time on his time manipulation. Mycroft is whipping his minions into a frenzy trying to find Scott. Several scientists who have basic theories on alternate time lines were consulted, interviewed and partially kidnapped in the name of science.

John is sticking to Sherlock like proverbial glue. He is always on the look out for Scott. Trying to keep Mycroft's minions from picking up the wrong Sherlock and worried to hell that a potential time paradox is in the offing at any second. Everything seemed to be going along too easily. Serial murderer is captured with minimal muss or fuss. Lestrade is over the moon with the collar. Mycroft is pretty sure he has a sighting of Scott and John is actually getting some real sleep. Life is good. And then it isn't.

(-_-)

John wakes up slowly from a long days sleep. He's finally catching up on said sleep because of the post case lull in activity that is currently happening. The door to his room opens and Sherlock enters with a tray piled with tea and biscuits.

John's jaw drops. “Scott, what the hell? Where the fuck is Sherlock??”

Scott smiles. A devious and deliciously beautiful smile that says that Sherlock is long gone and that John is possibly, positively screwed.

“Before you become enraged and attempt to call Lestrade or Mycroft, let me state my case. Please.” Scott sits on the edge of John's bed, placing the try between them.

“I have looked into transversing time lines since I was quite young. You are aware that in my time line I've lost my John. I want you to consider staying here with me.

“And why would I do that?” John is calm, lifting the cup of tea to his lips to sip at the hot beverage. He decides not to partake of biscuits. He has to draw the line somewhere.

“Because I can give you everything you've ever wanted. A real caring, intimate relationship. No more only between cases situations. I love you John Watson. You know that to be true.”

Scott could read this John. He is loyal. Bullheaded. Would he accept an all or nothing arrangement?

“And if I can't or won't be your John? What then? Where is Sherlock?” John demands again.

“Though I can manipulate time, I do have my limits. I've sent him into another universe, but I can't be sure where or when. So you have the options of having me in your life or no one at all.” Scott lowers his head and looks at John lustfully from under his long dark eye lashes.

What could John do? Hopefully, things couldn't get any more shitty than they were. Sherlock would figure things out, find his way home. John chose to wait Scott out. For John Watson there is never going to be anyone but his Sherlock. 

(-_-)

Sherlock found himself at 221B, but not his 221 B. This flat feels empty. Hollow. The life sucked out of it. He walks slowly up the stairs. His heart racing. Something is very wrong. He can feel it in every particle of his being. Opening, the semi closed door, he stands in the door way and the sight that greets him tears his heart out.

(-_-)

Scott is true to his word. He makes nice. He cooks and cleans and solves crimes with all the drama and flair that Sherlock ever had. As far as John can tell no one suspects the truth. Mycroft is uncharacteristically silent and absent.

John will not allow any physical contact. In fact, he begins to distance himself from Scott all together. Dropping out from assisting in Scott's cases and stops his blog. He looks for a tiny bed sit. Finding one he packs only what he will need to survive in his new environs.

“You can't do this.” Scott finds him preparing to leave. “I won't let you.”

“You have no way of stopping me, Scott.” John glares at him. He pushes past the man who looks like his Sherlock, but isn't. Inside his soul cries out for his Sherlock to return to him.

Scott grabs him by his jacket and hurls him back into the sitting room. Forcefully, John to thrown up against the brickwork of the fire place. There is a sickening sound as John's body connects with the unyielding surface. He crumples onto Mrs. Hudson's carpet. Lying motionless. A crimson red beginning to bloom on the floor at his right temple.

“John!?!” Scott rushes to his flat mate's side. He lifts the limp body into his arms and makes a wounded sound. Fishing his mobile out of his pocket, he dials A & E. 'Why is this happening?' he thinks. 'What have I done.'

(-_-)

Scott paces inside the A & E. Mycroft sits still and calm. His hands on this brolly. 

“It isn't like you to get physical with John.” He states the obvious.

“It was an accident.” Scott speaks to the floor as he passes Mycroft.

“Scott.” Mycroft utters the name softly. “I believe you need to explain what is happening here?

Scott turns at the sound of the name given to him by John. Mycroft can see the thoughts churning in Scott's mind. Scott steps away from Mycroft, his Belstaff flaring. Mycroft raises his left hand and like magic several very strong, very large minions converge on Scott. 

“No, Mycroft!” Scott struggles but it isn't going to be of any use. He is out muscled and out foxed. Mycroft has sussed that he isn't Sherlock. 

(-_-)

John wakes in a hospital bed to find Mycroft sitting comfortably in a rather out of place leather wing backed chair. An aide sets down a tray of tea and tasty morsels on a small table next to his chair.

John smiles at the incongruity of the scene. Touching the bandages swathing his head, he draws in a deep breath, trying to remember what happened.

“I believe you were about to leave Scott and he became rather violent in his attempts to prevent your exit.” Mycroft says rather dryly.

“What kind of damage has he inflicted?” John fingers the IV tubes taped to his inner elbow. 

“There was a sub-cranial hematoma. Surgery was performed to relieve pressure. As you probably know you will be side lined for some time while your body heals. Your prognosis is good. And to answer your question, yes, we have Scott in custody. You wouldn't know where he has sequestered Sherlock?”

“No.” John is offered ice chips by Mycroft's aide. John takes the small cup and welcomes the cool moisture into his dry mouth. “He sent Sherlock to another universe, but he doesn't know where. I'm hopefully Sherlock will be able to learn to twist time as well as Scott and step back into this time line.” 

“I wish I could be as positive as you are John, in Sherlock's abilities. Scott is being quite close mouthed and I've have been extremely persuasive in my attempts to glean information from him.”

“I guess we have to play a waiting game.” John blinked his weary eyes. “I'm afraid I'm not going to be much help for a while.”

“John, you should rest. I promise to keep you in the informational loop.”

Mycroft stood to leave and John could see the sense of loss that haunted his stance.


	4. Killing Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Mycroft are attempting to rescue Sherlock. Scott is a wild card. Sherlock tries to find his way home.

Sherlock stood in the door way of the empty, hollow 221B. His heart broke a the sight before him. A hollow John held his dead Sherlock, both covered in Sherlock's blood. John lifted his tear stained eyes and pulled his Glock up, aiming it directly at the Sherlock in the doorway.

“You bastard, come back to finish me off. I don't care who you look like, I will kill you!” John's resolve is rock steady. There is rage, anger and destruction in his gaze. His words too true.

“John, look at me.” Sherlock lifts his hands in surrender and crouches down so that he is on eye level with hollow John. “I am not the Sherlock that did this. There is a rogue Sherlock out there, he came here, when you refused him he killed your Sherlock. Look closely at me, John.”

He sees John shutter with sorrow. His keen eyes observing the stranger before him. Slowly he lowers the gun, placing it on the floor. He pulls his dead Sherlock into a tight embrace and cries in great gulping sobs. He wants nothing more than to follow his lover into the void.

Sherlock moves forward slowly, moving the gun a little further away. Looking at the inconsolable, devastated John Watson. What does he do? Was Scott responsible for this heinous crime? He has to get back to his time line. His John is in dire peril. He wants to reach out to touch hollow John, to comfort him.

“We must stop the Rogue Sherlock from hurting anyone else. Ever.”

John looks up, his grief quickly becoming over lade with deep layers of hatred, revenge. He tenderly closes the eyes of his dead Sherlock. His broken heart so visible in his midnight blue eyes. 

Sherlock reaches into his jacket pocket. Removes a handkerchief and gently wipes the blood from hollow John's face. He thinks about the cluster-fuck that will be happening as he tries to explain his presence in the flat of the dead Sherlock Holmes.

(-_-)

John is growing restless. He is ambulatory and wanting more than anything to be at 221 B. Mrs. Hudson has been very attentive and baking her way into his heart and stomach. She had dropped off a fresh set of clothing last night. Before the crack of dawn, John is up showered and shaved, ready to be transported. Waiting, impatiently for Molly to show up to escort him home. Lestrade had been too busy, and Mycroft was never John's first choice in any matter of interest.

Molly shows up. Her bright smile and temperate personality, just what John needs. 

“I've heard that Sherlock is missing and that Scott is the reason. I do hope that something can be done to bring Sherlock back home.” She wheels John out to the curb via the customary hospital wheel chair, where a huge black saloon drives up to whisk them away. 

“To be honest, I'm hoping that Sherlock will find his way home.” John explains. “I just hope he landed somewhere he can do that from. Theories from specialists in the field of alternate universes say that they can be exactly like ours or totally different. Right now I want to approach Mycroft about questioning Scott. He is the key to finding Sherlock. His abilities to manipulate time are all we have to go on. He's been totally non-cooperative so far.”

Molly places a reassuring hand on John's forearm and looks deeply into his midnight blue eyes.

“If anyone can work miracles, you know it will be Sherlock.” Molly reassures him.

“I can't think about losing him, Molly. I can't let myself go there. He'd never give up on me. I can't give up on him.” John feels himself shaken by so many emotions. Over thrown by all the turbulence of the past few weeks. Pulling out his mobile, he speed dials Mycroft.

(-_-)

In the interrogation room, Scott is handcuffed to the table that is welded to the floor. As an extra measure, he has ankle chains which are attached to one of the legs of the table. John comes in and sits against the furthest wall. He can tell that Scott is still under medicinal control as well as the common metallic restraints.

Scott becomes more animated at seeing John.

“They wouldn't tell me if you were okay. I've been worried sick.” Scott says, his eyes glistening with forbidden tears. His movement is slow, eyes tracking lethargically. 

John throws a small recording device at Scott. “I want you to tell us everything you know about time manipulation. Where you sent my Sherlock.” John appears quite calm, but look closely and you can see the seething center of his being, a holocaust of emotions.

“I'm your Sherlock now.” Scott says forcefully as he stands pushing his chair back weakly.

Several sturdy men enter the room aiming weapons and Tasers at Scott.

“There is no way that this ends with me accepting you. So let's stopping pretending that you have a flying fuck of a chance at a life outside these walls. You start cooperating or I will have Mycroft throw you in a hole so deep that your Mind Palace will turn to dust before you see me or anyone else in your lifetime.” John's eyes are dark, almost black in the stark glare of the over head florescent lights. 

Scott sits back down on his chair. Lifting the recorder he begins to throw it just as he is Tasered by one of his guards.

“Well, that went about as expected.” John stands and exits the room. 

(-_-)

“The electrodes are placed in those areas of the brain that we want to control.” Mycroft is explaining the apparatus to John.

Scott is strapped to a surgical table. An intravenous feed keeping him quiet and docile. A doctor and several nurses are in attendance. As John and Mycroft sit in an adjoining room, an over head microphone catches anything Scott says immediately sending it to recorders and the speaker in their room.

“Shall we begin?” Doctor Beckner queries. 

“By all means.” Mycroft states. 

The manipulation of Scott's brain begins. They want the secrets of time travel, where Sherlock is and how to get him back. There is some hope of a positive outcome. 

“John?” Scott kept calling for his missing companion, lover and colleague. “John, where are you?”

(-_-)

Sherlock and hollow John sit in the flat. The blood and splatter have long been removed. The explanations made and rejected. Hollow John stares at this new Sherlock. This not-his Sherlock. There are tiny details that give the man away.

John studies the pale face. The dark curls that seem to float about his face. The eyes that see everything, that could scour the paint off bricks; that were alive with blue and grey and flecks of gold. Those eyes that he loved for such a very long time. Sighing heavily, he cradles his weary head in his steady hands.

Sherlock stands, walks over to where hollow John sits, gently lifts him up. Sherlock opens his arms in silent invitation. Hollow John pauses just a heart beat before he throws his arms about Sherlock. His grip is stronger than death itself and he weeps openly. Sherlock finds himself moist eyed, holding on to Hollow John with a tenacious love. No matter what time line, what universe. He will always love John Watson.

(-_-)

“Can we use this mechanism to force Scott to manipulate time for us?” John is determined. 

“Well, we have the information we need from him. We will have to verify the validity of it, but I do believe we can move forward in steps.”

“I don't want to hear about steps. I want to see Sherlock walking back into this time line.”

Mycroft can feel the reverberations of John's not-shouting-off-the-walls of the Strangers Room.

“As do I, John. All of this is completely unproven. Should we proceed without safeguards, it may just as well kill Sherlock as bring him back.

John huffs his frustration as he walks in circles around Mycroft's seated form. “How long before we can begin trials?” 

“Optimistically, three or four months.”

(-_-)

“In my time line, my John calls him Scott. He told me there a tiny tells, a small sadness that permeates his persona.”

“I think losing his John unhinged him. He came here to try to coerce me into joining him. I told him to shove off in the most indelicate way I could muster. I could tell you weren't him. I saw that same tell.” Hollow John remarks.

Sherlock gave his small smile, he knew how colorful his John's verbal assaults could be.

“He wasn't happy with my refusal. He was going to kill me, when my Sherlock stepped between us taking the shot meant to kill me.”

The sorrowfulness in Hollow John's face tells Sherlock that he is reliving that moment.

“Was your Sherlock able to slow time?” Sherlock knows the best way to divert Hollow John is to engage him.

“Yes. He was quite adept at it.” John perks up at the question.

“Was he able to enter other time lines?”

“Of course, he was attempting to catalog the number of universes that he could access. He never went into the different time lines, fearing he would somehow disrupt them, but he was all into finding them. He had a separate computer set aside with all his data.”

“Fantastic.” Sherlock looked excited to the point of ecstasy.

(-_-)

“It's been nearly a year, Mycroft.” John's is exasperated and stressed.

“This isn't catching the tube to Trafalgar square station, John.”

“I know. I know. It's just all the waiting is tearing me down.”

A knock on Mycroft's office brings attention away from their conversation. 

“Come.” Mycroft intones with polite command. 

“Sir, subject SH2112 has been lost.”

Mycroft stands explosively. “What do you mean, LOST.”

“In the moments during change of shift his monitor shows him in his cell. A second later, he's gone. There is no other egress from the cell. All the connected areas have been searched with no results.”

“Keep us posted. I want to speak to the medical personal in charge of his drug administration immediately.”

“Yes, Sir.” The minion closes the door quietly as he leaves.

“He's time shifted.” John says as he leans against Mycroft's elegant desk with both hands.

“Bloody hell.” Mycroft utters as the slumps back into his comfortable chair.

(-_-)

Sherlock and Hollow John have been working non-stop on controlled simulations from decedent Sherlock's computer. They call him DS for short so as not to confuse one another. Sherlock has been honing his time skills and hollow John has been as supportive and adaptive as his John ever can be. They are close without being too close. Working to get access to the time line that Scott inhabits. 

The time trick as they have deemed it. The way back for Sherlock. To find and incapacitate Scott. The time trick is set in place, but will it work? There is no way of knowing absolutely. Going there is the only way to test it. 

Hollow John faces Sherlock. He places a hand on Sherlock's forearm. “You have to take me with you.”

Sherlock lowers his gaze. “We've talked about this, John. I have no way of knowing if this will have a positive outcome. I could be entering a time void, die instantaneously. Why would you want to follow me there?”

“We have to stop this bastard. He killed my Sherlock in cold blood. He will keep killing any Sherlock that tries to keep him from a John. I've already lost one Sherlock. I can't lose another.” Hollow John's voice quavers at that last comment.

“You realize that adding your presence will alter my calculations. I'll have to adjust for the extra mass.”

“I knew you come around.” Hollow John smiles warmly. “Well, get on it, we've wasted nearly a year already.”

(-_-)

“You can be anywhere or when for that matter.” John states to himself. He's looking out the windows of 221 B. He has sent the homeless network out in search of Scott. Mycroft's minions also combing the confines of London. Hell even Lestrade's people are looking for a Sherlock 'impersonator'. He has to surface eventually. 

John sits in his chair. “Sherlock, come back to me. Please.” He stares at the empty chair across from him. Remembering the bristly, prickly, posh persona that is his Sherlock Holmes. Leaning back into the comfort of his chair he exhales a tired, frustrated, painful breath.

“John?” The name echos through 221 B with a powerful, familiar baritone.


	5. Time out of mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and hollow John attempt the improbable. Meanwhile, Scott turns a brutal eye on John. The impossible happens and everything hangs on Sherlock's fantastic brain.
> 
> *In my universe, Sherlock has a homeless network and a computer hacker network called "Serpent's Tooth." Yes, the serpent's tooth from Shakespeare. "How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is, To have a thankless child!"  
> King Lear Act 1, scene 4, 281–289

John looked up to see a Sherlock in his door way. Carefully, he scrutinized the man before him. It wasn't Scott nor his Sherlock either. This was an older, wiser, warmer Sherlock. The touches of silver at his temples and the crinkle of laugh lines about his eyes and mouth speak of a man acquainted with laughter as well as the night side of the soul. This was, hopefully, what his Sherlock would become years down the road. 

Older Sherlock produced a small smile that radiantly turned into a smile worthy of the Mona Lisa; full of mystery with a touch of joy. John smiled back, his heart bursting with happiness.

“John,” Older Sherlock started. “We know about Scott and we're working on ketting him.”

From behind Older Sherlock a voice that was John's came across. “He doesn't know what that means.”

“Oh, sorry, sorry,” Older Sherlock apologizes. “On containing him. I was never any good at going back and forth between time lines, slang and such. You excel at patience, dear John. We are working on this problem. It's a long convoluted transubstantiation.” 

John's voice came from behind Old Sherlock. “Locky, we've got to turn it now or we'll lose lateral!”

“Got it.” Older Sherlock calls back over his shoulder. “There's a 92% chance of a positive outcome. My John is as bull headed and stubborn as you are so you can probably boost that upwards 7 points. I've got to bug. Hang on to your reality, John. Trust your Sherlock.” With that said, Locky turned in the doorway and dissolved into the air about him.

John can hear doors closing, one after another, after another. It was like something out of Alice in Wonderland and John isn't sure if he was Alice or some demented form of the White Rabbit tumbling down the rabbit hole.

(-_-)

Sherlock is going over his procedures for the millionth time as hollow John skitters around his peripheral vision trying not to be a distraction and failing miserably. 

Stopping, hollow John faces Sherlock, before he can make his comment Sherlock answers his unasked question.

“I'm doing this because I'm not willing to risk your life, John. Whatever universe or time line we are in. You are still John and I am still Sherlock. If you are determined to follow me, you will do so safely.”

Hollow John purses his lips. He looks at his shoes, huffs a deep breath and looks back at Sherlock. His eyes, a dark midnight blue that Sherlock loves so dearly, are filled with determination and a mild adoration that is hard to obscure. 

“You've been going over your process forever. Your John is in danger and I want to kill the bastard who took my Sherlock from me. We go now.”

Sherlock searches hollow John's eyes. Though they are John and Sherlock, they really aren't. Sherlock misses his John and hollow John is devastated at losing his Sherlock. 

“We leave at midnight.” Sherlock states without further thought. 

“Yes,” hollow John replies. His heart is steel and his resolve is diamond hard.

(-_-)

John is writing in his blog. Much concern is being generated by his followers at the sudden disappearance of Sherlock Holmes. The Homeless network is on patrol and Sherlock's computer hacker network Serpent's Tooth* is also heavily involved.

Mycroft's minions are everywhere and there is a panic button situated in every room of the flat. For necessities sake as Anthea had said. 

John looks at Sherlock's empty chair, what he wouldn't give to have the chair filled. His best friend, companion, colleague and lover is god-knows-where. Scott is playing god, what is he even capable of? Still recovering from the damage done by Scott's assault, he is months away from complete recovery. He feels overwhelmed and overtaken by so many emotions.

“It's okay, John. We have all the time in the world.” Scott sits in Sherlock's chair. He leans back, a wicked smile upon his face.

John hits the panic button at his side. He blinks and they are no longer in Baker Street, moved to a location that John has never been before. Windowless and apparently door less, it is most certainly a cage.

“You can do all the magic tricks you'd like. It won't change my opinion of you. I'll never consent to be with you.” John is certainty and calm resolve.

Scott stands. “You forget, I can alter time. Let's see if a decade or two of solitary confinement alters your desires.” Scott dissolves into the air. 

John is alone. He feels time twist and turn inside out. His soul aches as he clings to the thought and image of his beloved Sherlock. 

(-_-)

Sherlock and hollow John have a tenuous hold on reality. Sherlock's time altering abilities are still in their infancy. Moving through time is not like walking. Sherlock is barely a toddler.

“Sherlock. I'm not doing well,” hollow John looks to be semi-transparent. 

Sherlock faces hollow John and transfers kinetic energy to his companion. “We need to stop for a while, John. I'm losing continuity.”

Their momentum, which didn't feel like it was moving in any one direction, stops. 

“Where are we?” John looks about at the endless nothing that surrounds them.

“As near as I can determine, we are situated between one second and another.” Sherlock admits as he lowered himself to the substance that isn't a substance at all.

“Are we all right?” John braved.

“We are not deceased. That, in my opinion, is most fortuitous,” Sherlock said softly. Knowing that it was little comfort for hollow John. 

(-_-)

John's needs are met. Scott comes in regularly to taunt and torment him. Time is his captor as his concept of time diminishes John begins to hallucinate. He knows that solitary confinement can produce such mental aberrations, yet that does not console him.

He can see Sherlock. It looks like his Sherlock but a John is by his side. John is heartsick at the image before him. It appears that they are resting somewhere. He reaches out a hand to touch his Sherlock, but there is nothing material there. Tears of devotion nestle in his midnight blue eyes. 

“Sherlock, come to me. Please love, please.”

(-_-)

From a distance Sherlock can feel something. A resonance, a calling, a yearning to be whole again.

“Can you feel that John?” Sherlock asks of hollow John.

“It's as if it is coming from inside me as well as somewhere else. Like a weak vibration,” hollow John answers.

“Give me your hand.” Sherlock admonishes. “Now seek out the vibration. Close your eyes, search it out.”

Hollow John, holding to Sherlock tightly, doesn't move physically. Sherlock starts to bend time, to modulate it, render a small part of it his.

“Keep going John.” He encourages his companion. “You are on the right track.”

(-_-)

“No, no, no.” Scott screams into the void. “This will not happen. I will not let this happen. Not now.” With the strength of his entire will, he tears into the time lines. He meets resistance that is not supposed to be there. Nothing can push back against him. Pulling psychogenic shields about himself, he exerts force to counter the resistance coming at him. Nothing is going to stop his time displacement. Nothing.

(-_-)

“Oh my god.” John speaks, mystified. He can see his Sherlock and a John coming toward him, millimeters at a time. Slower than any slow motion that could be imagined. Immobilized, he can sense that the other John is resonating with him. Closing his eyes he concentrates on doing whatever it takes to strengthen the fragile link between them.

(-_-)

Older Sherlock and his older John are desperately trying to heal the time lines as Scott crashes his way from one universe to another. Little caring for the damage that he is causing in his wake. 

“John, he's going to breach too many lines. The modification needed to correct this event is beyond our power.” 

(-_-)

John slumps to the ground, rendered unconscious by the twisting of time around him. Sherlock and hollow John tumble into the space next to him. The two Johns are pushed into the corner of the cage. Scott emerges, standing over Sherlock.

Scott tilts his head as he looks down his nose at Sherlock who stares up at him from the floor. His self aggrandizement is quite evident. 

“So you can track to time. You are getting better and better at this aren't you?” Scott smirks and starts weaving the time lines around Sherlock and himself. “Let's see how you handle a vast temporal displacement.” 

Sherlock screams as the time around him ripples. Scott grabs him about the throat with both hands. 

“Now I can have both of these Johns. Your generosity is, of course, deeply appreciated.”

“They will never be yours.” Sherlock spits at Scott.

“I think you are wrong there. See I have a new trick, one I'm dying to try out.” 

Scott scatters time around Sherlock, then he begins to vibrate. Sherlock feels the quivering start at the surface of his skin and then move inside him, to his very core.

“Feel that Sherlock? That's me winning.”

(-_-)

Sherlock is deathly still. The two John's slowly come back to awareness. John immediately sees Sherlock and gathers his feet beneath him to move to his side. Hollow John grabs him, pulling him back and away from Sherlock.

The two John's look into each others eyes. 

“No, John, don't,” hollow John says emphatically.

“That is my Sherlock.” John's pugnacious attitude is not going to be altered by hollow John.

“No, it is not. Believe me I know the other is there too. The other killed my Sherlock. I would know him anywhere.” Hollow John is just as confident in his belief. 

Sherlock, too weak to lift his head, opens his crystalline eyes. Impossibly sad eyes look at the two John's in the corner. 

“Vatican cameos, John.” Sherlock whispers in tortured tones. His eyes flutter closed and the air around him seems to be melting.

The cage gently turns and twists. Time is manipulated and they are all in 221B, except that the doorway to the kitchen is now a portal to somewhere else. Standing in the portal is the older Sherlock and at his side an older John.

“Gentlemen, your assistance please. We need to bring Sherlock into, for the want of a better definition, our Temporal Bio – Interface.” 

Everyone comes forward lifting Sherlock and carrying him over the portals threshold to lay on a raised, comfortable examination table.

“For the sake easy of communication. I will be Locky. The Older Sherlock states. “The younger Sherlock will be himself.” Pointing to his older John he remarks, “This will be Hamish. You will be John.” He points to Sherlock's John.

“What shall we call you?” Locky asks of hollow John. 

“My Sherlock,” hollow John pauses, his voice trembling with distress. “He called me KS, short for kill shot. I saved his life by sniping a shot through two panes of glass between two adjacent buildings to kill a murderer who was threatening him the day after I met him.”

“Splendid. Hamish, John, KS, what we have here is something that shouldn't exist, but quite definitely does. It's a paradox that threatens the very existence of temporal integrity. Sherlock is confining Scott. That is what we are calling this rogue Sherlock, by the way.” Locky nods to KS so that everyone can be on the same page. “He is confining Scott within himself to prevent him from causing further difficulties. Unfortunately, his temporal abilities are not as practiced as Scott's. We are not sure how he is maintaining this aspect of temporal control.”

“What do we do? How do we help him? Can we extract Scott without hurting Sherlock?” John is distraught.

“It all becomes quite complicated,” Locky says thoughtfully. “We may lose one or both of them. We could rip the fabric of time completely. I am even hesitant to place a stasis field around them. Anything we attempt may help or hinder Sherlock. 

“John.” A breathe sound escapes Sherlock's lips. “John?”

John leans into Sherlock's space and forces himself not to touch his lover.

“I'm right here, love. How can I help? Tell me, us, what to do?”

“Millions riding waves, John. Ride the waves.”


	6. Time Waves Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A convergence of the Mind Palace, Norse Ice Castle and the magic of JohnLocks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have loved writing this story for you. I have brought it to a conclusion. But leave a thread hanging and hope to return to this AU some time in the future with more Timey Wimey.

“You can't do this to me. You bastard. Let me OUT!” Scott rants, raging against the might of the magnificent Mind Palace. “I will end you, you son of a bitch.” Scott hammers the smooth marble walls with his inefficient fists. Thinking by merging his time line with Sherlock's, he could masquerade as the consulting detective hadn't worked out for him. He is locked in a tiny four by four meter room. Scott doesn't know where he is or how to escape. In his universe he has no Mind Palace, it is totally unknown to him. Scott keeps forcing his time control energies outward only to have them come back at him, stunning his senses.

Frustrated and angered, Scott slides down the cold, hard surface of the wall to slump upon the floor. He is not defeated. He will never be defeated. There are dark sparks in his crystalline blue eyes. A small smile pushes its way onto his face. Think you idiot, you can find an answer. After all, this is just another aspect of yourself.

(-_-)

Sherlock lay serenely on the examining table. No one can discern the desperate struggle he faces in his Mind Palace. Exerting every once of mental intensity he can create, he is keeping Scott captive in that grand edifice. Will John figure out what is happening? Can anyone even offer him assistance?

Reinforcing the small cube that he has trapped Scott's essence in becomes Sherlock's one and only objective. He has to protect John. Crossing Scott's time line with his own had been a high-risk, brilliant move. Sherlock knows he is in dangerous territory now. Time lines and Mind Palaces weren't exactly made to be entwined. 

Sherlock slows his metabolic rate and shuts down any unnecessary functions to keep Scott encapsulated. How long he can contain his adversary is beyond his ability to predict.

(-_-)

Hamish and Locky are in deep discussion. It seems in their universe Hamish is the time perceptionist (his own label) and not Locky.

John and KS are standing at Sherlock's side. John is taking Sherlock's vitals yet again. Shaking his head, he concedes to the fact that nothing has changed.

“His vitals are strong, but very slow,” John states. “He does this sometimes when he's deep in his Mind Palace.”

“Did Scott injure him in any way?” KS inquires.

“Scott did something. Sherlock said 'Vatican Cameos' before he collapsed. Those are our danger words.” 

(-_-)

“Scott's penetrated and disrupted too many time lines. He's killed KS's Sherlock. This continued behavior will tear holes in the fabric of space time. Will cause anomalies that could extinguish all possible universes.” Hamish is deeply troubled. Locky hates to see him this way.

“What if we use these disruptions, let them become a temporal beacon?” Locky says, sitting up taller and looking into Hamish's eyes. “Gravitational waves are producing ripples in space time. We can use them to our advantage, Hamish.”

Hamish catches on to Locky's idea. Eyes alight, he comes close to Locky and captures his luscious mouth in a fervent kiss.

“You are my consulting genius and I can't wait to show you how much I adore you.” Hamish’s thin lipped smile is gorgeous.

“There will be time for that later.” Locky reminds him as he gives him that ‘can’t wait to get you alone’ look. “We have universes, time lines and John Watsons to save. 

John looks questioningly at Locky and Hamish. “I believe that Sherlock is deep in his Mind Palace. I have no idea why he's not coming out?” John looks totally baffled.

Hamish looks to Locky. “I told you, your Norse Ice Castle was a bit grandiose.”

“If Sherlock can have a Mind Palace, I can have an Ice Castle,” Locky says ever so sarcastically. 

“He said our danger words just before his lost consciousness. You think he has trapped Scott? Could he have him in the Mind Palace?” John holds Sherlock's hand lovingly.

“The Mind Palace is a mental conception. There is no way of knowing if Sherlock is using his Mind Palace or how long he can do so.” Hamish proposes. “This gets more convoluted as it goes.” 

John feels Sherlock’s hand tremble. 

“Sherlock!” John is adamant as he grips that trembling hand. “Sherlock you have to come out. We need you here. Please, love, come back to me.”

(-_-)

Scott is clever. So very clever. He determines that he is in a construct of some kind. It’s strong. He’s painfully aware of that. Yet, constructs can be deconstructed if you know where to pull the thread, kick out the corner stone. Meticulously he begins to examine each and every millimeter of his confinement. He was merging with Sherlock’s time line. Maybe he merged with Sherlock on some other level as well.

“I’ve got all the time in the world, Sherlock. I’ll have your John. I’ll take him from you, I can promise you that.” Scott promises. Surety in his baritone voice.

(-_-)

Sherlock begins thrashing on the examination table. Both KS and John attempt to restrain him. Not knowing if he is emerging from his catatonic state or in the throws of an approaching seizure. Locky and Hamish join them as Sherlock opens his eyes.

“Sherlock, there you are.” John is over the moon by his revival. Yet hope dies as he looks into those crystalline blue eyes that are devoid of consciousness. “Sherlock, where are you?”

Sherlock’s eyes blink and his lips move, yet no sound is emanating from him.

(-_-)

Scott pushes outward. He’s found a tiny displacement in his cell. Concentrating on one that fatal flaw, he seeks freedom from whatever hell he’s been placed in. His eyes spark with power and he feels the construct buckle and twist. There is radiating pain and confusion. There is a moment of convergence when Sherlock and Scott inhabit the very same moment. Then that moment is gone, ripped apart by forces unknown.

Sherlock startles. Eyes filled with intelligence and fear. He grabs at John and KS as he sits up. Scott is thrown against the far wall. The wind knocked out of him momentarily. Hurtling to his feet he comes at Sherlock as John and KS move to shield him. Scott disappears and reappears behind KS. Catching the Glock from KS’s waist holster. Disappearing again, he appears in front of Locky. Holding the gun in both hands he aims at his mirror image. Hamish dives for the gun and they go down in a tumble of bodies and limbs. Hamish cursing for everything he’s worth.

Flashing in and out and in again the two grapple for control of the weapon as everyone else stands frozen in time. How can you help someone who is and isn’t at the same time? 

Ominously, the sound of two rounds being fired, can be heard as if from some long corridor far away. Heartbeats pass. Hamish’s body slowly begins to form as if he is washing in from the sea. Already the blood from his wounds is pooling around his body. 

Locky is by his side, gentling lifting Hamish into his arms. John stays with Sherlock to help him from the examination table while KS starts triage on Hamish.

“Are these even more reiterations of us?” Sherlock inquires of John.

“A matter of time.” Hamish say with his last breath. His midnight blue eyes lose the flash of life and Locky cradles the limp body in his arms. Weeping.

“Where the hell is Scott?” KS growls angrily. 

Locky cradles his Hamish in a tight embrace. He’d known what Hamish was going to do, yet seeing and feeling it is still soul shattering.

Sherlock, leaning on John, makes his way to the tragic scene. Then he looks around at the conveyance that they are standing in. Through the open portal he can see the sitting room at 221B. 

“What is this?” He requests as he scans the vehicle. 

“They call it a Temporal Bio-interface.” John answers.

“Fascinating.” Sherlock takes a step away from John to further inspect the environment.

KS grips Locky’s trembling shoulders and gently shakes him. “Help me lift him to the table, mate.” 

Taking exaggerated breaths, Locky looks up from this lovers dead body. Nods in compliance and together they place Hamish on the table that Sherlock has vacated. 

“Hamish believed that each time Scott makes a hole or a rip in the fabric of space time. It will alert Others to the crisis that is upon us.” Locky stated, his composure coming back to him.

“What Others?” Sherlock asked with intense curiosity.

“There are infinite time lines, gentlemen. Some similar, some different. Some radically, insanely different. There is even a line where Sherlock is an Afghan hound and John is a Welsh Corgi.” Locky smiles at that remembrance. “He believed that other Sherlock’s and John’s have solved these paradox problems of time perception. We know they are out there. If anyone makes a mess, someone comes to fix the problem.”

“Hamish is...was studying this conundrum. He wanted to contact more time lines. To learn more about the other Sherlock’s and John’s. He called them JohnLocks. He was close. Using this contraption, we visited other realities.”

The compartment of the Temporal Bio-Interface begins to elongate. One end of the large room began extending into a long hall way. Stretching out to infinity. In the far distance a tall robed figure stood and walked slowly toward the group. Everyone stood transfixed.

“Is this thing functioning normally?” John reached for his Sig Sauer. Holding it steady at his side. Just in case.

“The TBI is in neutral. This should not be happening.” Locky confessed.

The figure is a very tall man who is clothed in simple yet elegant clothing that isn’t anything off any rack in any time line of those present. The purple cloth is smooth and textured at the same time. The outer robe clings like a second skin.

He stands at the portal. It is a surreal Sherlock; slender, ethereal. Massive curly hair is white as new born snow, shoulder length and drawn back from his face, his alabaster skin glows. His eyes, the green/blue/gold surfaces flicker with a magic that entrances and calms the inhabitants of the TBI.

“Can you help us?” Locky asks in earnest.

“Yes.” Is the soft reply. 

“We all have designations. That is Locky with his Hamish. I’m John and this is my Sherlock. This is KS. He lost his Sherlock when Scott killed him. What do we call you?”

“I have many names.” the elder Sherlock states. “Killy here calls me his ‘Spock’.”

“Sherlock!” KS jumps forward to take this new Sherlock in his arms and hugs him almost to the point of breaking ribs.

“Killy, so good to see you smile again.” Spock replies.

“Wait, how can this be? How can you be KS’s Sherlock? Scott killed him.” Sherlock comments as he draws closer to Spock to examine him more closely.

“Hamish was correct. There is an infinity of JohnLock’s. Where there is a Sherlock there is always a John. It is a law of nature, a Time Constant. Not to be altered. When either persona transitions through death, the remaining individual either dies or goes rogue.” Spock caresses his Killy’s face.

“I don’t understand?” Killy looks into the eyes of his Spock, as his eyes fill with tears of joy. “How can this be? 

“The damage done by a time rogue is and must be healed. You and I were parted, but the time paradox was restored by other JohnLock’s. We lived on into a future. I am from our future, KS.”

“So what happens now?” John inquires. “What about Scott? What about Hamish?”

The Temporal Bio-interface rolls like a boat in heavy seas. From nowhere and everywhere innumerable Sherlock’s and John’s transport through them. Literally. Wave after wave of individuals cross through them from every possible direction. The TBI continues to rock and sway with the motion. The bodies disrupt each other and disappear.

“I experienced that. I knew it was going to happen.” Sherlock states. 

“You did say earlier ‘Millions and ride the waves.’” John confides.

“Temporal visions. Quite extraordinary.” Spock says. “Would you be willing to let me run a few experiments on you?” He asks Sherlock.

Before Sherlock can answer. John steps between them. “I know this is all fascinating and such. But what is going to happen to Hamish and KS’s Sherlock. Where is Scott?” 

Spocks demeanor is soothing. It’s as if his very presence brings peace and harmony.

From behind Spock, an ancient Killy steps out to give the necessary information. Spock stands behind him and places his arms around the smaller man in a warm embrace. 

“The time space rifts have been healed. The combined energies of all possible JohnLocks’ have provoked rectified states. Scott, with his strong abilities to manipulate time has been put in stasis. When a suitable rogue John appears they will be paired up and the whole problem will solve itself. When Locky returns to his time, his Hamish will be waiting. As will KS’s Sherlock.” Killy nods at the aforementioned men.

“If you will return KS to his time line.” Killy says to Locky as he and Spock walk into the sitting room at 221B. Sherlock and John follow. 

“It seems all very simplistic.” Sherlock seems unconvinced that all is right with the world. “If it was such an easy fix. Why wasn’t it put into place at the first sign of a disruption?”

“Ah.” Spock says as he moves around the room. “You’ve come to the right question.”

“What are the odds of a John or Sherlock dying. Leaving a bereft partner behind?” Sherlock queries.

“One in one trillion.” Spock answers. 

“But we’ve just witnessed three deaths in the space of...well in a short period of time. Scott’s John, KS’s Sherlock and Locky’s Hamish. What the hell is that?” John looks to anyone in the room for an answer.

“Bingo.” Killy says as he turns to Spock and they both sit on the couch. 

“Someone or something is disrupting time lines with incomprehensible accuracy.” Sherlock says as he sits in his chair. 

“We’ve never found anyone with temporal visions, until now.” Killy states as he looks at Sherlock. 

“We really would like to run some experiments on you.” Spock lays out on the couch with his head in Killy’s lap.

“I imagine you really do.” John says knowingly as he sits on the arm of Sherlock’s chair.

“When do we start?” Sherlock asks.


End file.
